The incredible elastic ears of Scrumpy the rabbit

Yes, Scrumpy's ears are getting longer and longer every time I draw them. Maybe it's because he uses them so much, they're stretching with overuse.

In sadder news, Gizmo died on Tuesday last week, his renal failure having finally caught up with him. It's been a tough month, losing Smudge and Gizmo within a month of one another, but not a surprise. It's hit us both hard, though - today's been the first day I've had the strength to write about it. Linda and I would like to thank everyone at the Chase Vets Practice in London Road for helping us to make their last few months so comfortable.

Smudge and Gizmo, 2010

A house that is suddenly without cats feels so empty. The water fountain no longer burbles merrily away in the corner of the living room. There are no food bowls to trip over in the kitchen. Gizmo no longer perches on the far edge of the bath whenever I take a shower. Smudge no longer gives running commentaries while trying to talk to Linda's parents on the phone. There is no furry body blocking the view of my Mac as I type. Every now and then I catch a moving shadow in the corner of my eye and have to remind myself there's no longer a cat there to cause it.

Over to Linda, who wrote this obit on Facebook on Tuesday.

Hi, Everyone. Andrew and I are saddened to tell you all that our little big scrawny ol'Snaggedypuss boy Gizmo went to sleep this afternoon at the vet's office, with me holding him as he went. He might have been about eight or nine years old. He came to us about two years ago, when a friend had to give him up to keep him safe. He was a great source of fun for us, and I've never seen a cat who was better able to imitate Stevie Wonder or someone who should have been spread on the top of a grand piano, singing torch songs.

His hind legs were weak when he was a kitten and never got any better, so among other things, when he would crawl up into your lap for a cuddle or a Stevie Wonder pummeling session, he would sit, not on his haunches like other cats, but flat on his butt. He only had one tooth, which made him all the more lovable because his tooth was on the lower jaw in the front, so he had a snaggle tooth. He was bright eyed and earnest, and had a peep that sounded like a dog's squeaky toy. I think, though, before she died, Smudge must have told him he needed to learn how to meow, because for a little while, he was able to MEEEAAAAOOOOOUUUUWWWW in a very deliberate fashion.

I am at a loss...I have had an animal in my life constantly since 1995, and for the first time in nearly 20 years, I am alone with my human companions, which is fine, but there is some life missing. As I always ask, please donate to your favorite animal charity in Ol' Momo's name.